


we don't need no mistletoe

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Hot Chocolate and Snow, M/M, Shyan Secret Santa 2019, Shyan Writing Events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: It’s their second Christmas as a couple, and Shane’s just ridiculously happy that it’s working out so well with Ryan. It can be a tricky thing, integrating a partner into family, but Ryan fit so seamlessly, like he’d been there the whole time. There was a stocking above the fireplace with Ryan’s name stitched into it, hanging right next to Shane’s, old and worn from years passed. When Shane looked at it, at them, it made him bloom with warmth, a steady trickle of heat that made him smile.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 32
Kudos: 237
Collections: Shyan Secret Santa 2019





	we don't need no mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkandella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandella/gifts).



> i'm back with more christmas fluff. this is a quick gift for [arella](https://shehungthemoon.tumblr.com/) for the shyan secret santa 2019 writing event. i really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> thanks to [jess](https://sequencefairy.tumblr.com/) for the beta work. 
> 
> happy holidays!

The second Ryan steps in the house he’s already calling for Shane’s mother. Shane rolls in their suitcases as Ryan shrugs out of his coat, hanging it up on the rack next to the door. Shane leaves their luggage off to the side, busying himself with his laces. 

“Sherry!” Ryan’s yelling, “I don’t think your son is gonna make it to Christmas at the rate he’s going!” 

Shane hears his mother’s laughter from the kitchen, rolling his eyes. Ryan and his mother together is almost too much to handle; he feels outnumbered. (But, in a good way.)

Sherry greets them with hugs and kisses. She smells like gingerbread and pine and _now_ it feels like it’s Christmas. “What is it this time?” She says, playfully exasperated, thwacking Shane’s shoulder. 

“You always take Ryan’s side. What happened to me being your beautiful baby boy?” Shane laments. 

It’s nothing, is what it is, just a fickle little argument between them, and although Ryan is relaying the details to his mother, Shane just bypasses the two of them, kissing Ryan’s temple on his way into the living room where Scott and his dad are sitting, watching some old-timey flick Shane’s sure he’ll be into. Not much happens the day before Christmas Eve and it’s just the way he likes it. The Christmas tree is up, standing tall next to the fireplace which crackles, warmth blanketing the room. The lights are hung and decorations are out; his mom’s collection of Nutcrackers have their very own table, a little army of them. 

“Good flight?” his dad asks from where he’s sitting on the recliner by the sliding glass doors. Shane sits on the end of the sofa, sinking in without much resistance. 

“Yeah. There was a screaming kid, but it was mostly okay. Slept most of it,” Shane answers, kicking off his boots and letting them fall to the ground. 

“Mile high club?” Scott asks, and Shane throws a couch pillow at him. 

“Mind your business,” Shane mutters. (No, because Ryan hadn’t wanted to, because “What if someone sees?”)

Shane’s dad chuckles.

:::

It’s their second Christmas as a couple, and Shane’s just ridiculously happy that it’s working out so well with Ryan. It can be a tricky thing, integrating a partner into family, but Ryan fit so seamlessly, like he’d been there the whole time. There was a stocking above the fireplace with Ryan’s name stitched into it, hanging right next to Shane’s, old and worn from years passed. When Shane looked at it, at them, it made him bloom with warmth, a steady trickle of heat that made him smile. 

(Shane’s mom had made it, busting out the sewing machine to painstakingly stitch Ryan’s name into it, stuffing it with gifts. Shane loved his mother, he did.)

His mother was both not surprised and completely floored when Shane had told her about his new thing with Ryan. Because it hadn’t really been new. They just had the added bonus of kissing now that they’d made that leap into some sort of relationship. 

(He’d walked into the kitchen while Ryan was asleep last Christmas vacation, a little restless, and Shane’s mother made him a sandwich, like she’d used to when he was younger, and she just talked at him. 

“He’s so annoying, Mom, God.”

“Won’t shut up about the damn Lakers, Ma.” 

“Mom, _listen_ , he believes in ghosts.” 

And she’d listed to him, laughing at him, looking at him with knowing eyes. “You brought him home, though,” she’d said, leaning against the kitchen sink, towel over her shoulders, crinkles around her eyes.

And Shane had pursed his lips and shrugged. “Well, you know. He’s my boyfriend now.”

They hugged for a while after that.)

It was easy, so easy Shane is still waiting, a year and a half later, for the other shoe to drop. As it goes, Ryan looks at him with eyes that shine and Shane would do just about anything he asked of him. But that hadn’t been new either. Years of living out of each other’s pockets, becoming the best of friends; it’s what they did.

It happened like most things happened between them; slowly, and then a little chaotically, and then they just took it in stride. 

Telling Ryan he really wanted to kiss him while they ate breakfast at three in the morning on Shane’s couch one night in early summer, because he’d just _felt_ like it, had Ryan tugging Shane’s plate out of his hand to dump onto the coffee table. And then he had a lapful of Bergara, and then a bed full of Bergara, and that seemingly was that. 

They’d only decided, though, in hushed tones underneath the covers of Shane’s bed sheets, that they would see where it went for a little while, in case they changed their minds. But it just kept going (Shane didn’t think either of them would backpedal, not when Shane was sure Ryan was it for him). 

So, then, they decided they would only tell their parents and immediate family members, which meant their brothers. And really, like Shane’s mother, no one had been surprised. It was easier this way—and they kept it fairly decent at work, but God, had they been flirting the entire time that no one gave them a second look when they were actually, _intentionally_ flirting around the office?

This year, they’d spent Thanksgiving with Ryan’s family, which had been an absolute _blast_. Ryan’s parents were warm and inviting, and Shane found himself learning new traditions. And now they’re in good ol’ Schaumburg, chillin’ with the Madejs, and Ryan is…a part of this. It feels wondrous to Shane, how this anxiety-ridden, ghost-believing, annoying, beautiful, brilliant, sunshine man can just waltz into his life and fit himself in a space Shane hadn’t realized he’d been saving for him.

Unceremoniously, Ryan sinks down next to him on the couch, already fixed with a sandwich and beer, hair soft, cheeks flushed. 

“Hey, where’s mine?” Shane mumbles. Ryan grins up at him. 

“Get your own,” he says, sitting back against the couch. 

Shane absolutely does not get his own; he steals bites from Ryan’s and sips Ryan’s beer, and Ryan doesn’t ever once grumble about it. 

:::

A few hours later, Shane wakes up with Ryan’s legs over his lap; when he looks over, Ryan’s tucked against the other side of the couch, sleeping soundly. He allows himself a moment to trace over Ryan’s features, the softened lines of his face, the way his glasses have gone crooked on his face, before nudging at his calf to wake him. 

“Babe,” Shane says. “Come on, you can sleep in my room.” 

Ryan grumbles, kicking his hand away. “I’m fine.” 

“Come _on_ ,” Shane says, tickling the arch of Ryan’s foot, before Ryan’s snatching his legs away from Shane’s reach. 

“Fuck, Shane, you know I hate that.” 

Shane laughs—because he knows exactly how much, and now Ryan’s sitting up, looking at him, giving him attention, which, really, had been the plan all along. 

Shane’s dad had nodded off in true Dad fashion, and Scott had left for elsewhere. Shane’s mother was humming in the kitchen, no doubt baking another batch of cookies—it’s smelled like sugar in the house. 

Shane leans over and presses a kiss to Ryan’s cheek, and all of Ryan’s sleep-anger at being woken up melts away, and Ryan curls his arms around Shane’s shoulders and turns it into a proper kiss, soft and gentle, one that makes Shane’s belly swoop a little. 

It happens sometimes, like it catches him off guard that he’s got Ryan like this. Like he’s surprised by it. How in love with Ryan he is.

“Why don’t we go—” 

“Nowhere,” Ryan interrupts him. “You know I hate being in the snow.” 

“Just for a little while. We gotta build a snowman. And I gotta beat you in a snowball fight. Snow angels….”

Ryan laughs, shaking his head. “We’re gonna be here for, like, a week and a half.” Ryan looks past Shane’s shoulder. “It doesn't look like it’s gonna let up any time soon.” 

Shane shrugs. “Just—you know. Wanna spend time with you.” 

“We could do about fifty billion other things, all in the comfort of this warm, dry home, that involve not a single flake of snow,” Ryan reasons, looking up at Shane through those eyelashes—Shane wants to cave, just give into Ryan and stay in, find a spot to cuddle while they watch Christmas flicks. He doesn’t.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane whines. “Please?” 

:::

Ryan is absolutely adorable in his coat; it’s the heavy one that hangs in the hall closet because he has no use for it back home. And it’s another thing that makes Shane _feel_ , because Ryan’s belongings live in Shane’s parents’ home, and that’s just—a lot. 

The fur-lined hood is down, and the snow falls gently, flakes dotting the black beanie over Ryan’s forehead. 

Despite his griping, Ryan had gotten dressed, layering himself like he’d freeze to death in thirty degree weather. Shane got dressed quickly, waiting for Ryan to hurry up so they could go outside. 

Finally, they were bounding down the sidewalk, hand in hand, until the snow started coming down. Ryan holds out both his arms to his side, tips his head back, and sticks his tongue out. Shane laughs, pulling out his phone and snapping a photo. 

It’s a good one, one Shane is immediately fond of. He types out a caption, chooses a sticker. 

“Hey, come here,” Shane calls. And Ryan does, standing in front of him, rubbing his hands together. Shane shows him the photo. Ryan’s eyebrows raise. 

“‘Hashtag love of my life’? On Instagram?” 

“And a _heart_ ,” Shane says.

“You want that? Like publicly? You and me?” Ryan looks up at him, light beaming from his irises, looking like Shane’s giving him the entire world on a string. 

“Yeah, man. It’s me and you. It’s gonna be me and you for, you know, an infinite amount of time.” 

“Just say forever,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes. 

Shane hums, smiling down at Ryan. “So, yeah? I mean, why not give the world the greatest gift ever.” 

“Substantiated evidence that, yes, we are banging.” Ryan laughs, peeking at Shane’s phone to see the photo. “Tag me in it, so I can be super gross and post it to mine.”

“Nice.” Shane does as he’s asked, tagging Ryan’s handle, and then he posts it. And Ryan’s already on his phone, waiting for the notification, and Ryan’s click clacking away at his screen, and then it’s a second or two of peace before his phone actually, literally explodes in his hand. 

It doesn’t really, but it certainly feels like it.

They hold hands, walking down the sidewalk, and the buzzing gets so annoying Shane turns his phone off and Ryan does the same. They can deal with all of the commotion later, pour over comments and questions and texts and missed calls when they get home, laugh about it all underneath the covers of his old bed, maybe kiss about it, if Ryan’s feeling frisky. 

“Wanna get hot chocolate?” Shane asks. 

“Yeah, sounds good. Take me to that ice rink again,” Ryan says. 

:::

It’s a longer walk than what’s actually comfortable, but they walk closely, hand in hand, talking about somethings and nothings and anythings. All the things. 

They arrive at the hot cocoa stand and Shane gets them both marshmallow topped cups of melted chocolate. 

“I can’t feel my toes, Shane,” Ryan whines. “Will you still love me if I have no toes?” 

“I guess,” Shane quips. “Although, your balance will be off, so then I’d have to carry you everywhere.” 

“Better hit the gym,” Ryan teases. “I don’t think your noodle arms will hold up.” 

Shane gives Ryan a look, because Ryan knows _damn well_ his arms hold him up just fine. And the visible shiver that goes through Ryan’s body makes Shane’s belly hot in a way they have no way of remedying. 

“Cheap shot, Big Guy,” Ryan says, but his eyes are glazed over a little, like he’s thinking about it. And truthfully, Shane’s thinking about it, too. 

“Come on,” Shane says, tugging Ryan’s sleeve. “Let’s go watch the skaters.” 

Ryan takes Shane’s hand in his and they walk towards the rink across the street, where families are gathered, couples gliding circles around laughing first-timers. The rink is decorated with Christmas lights, of course, glimmering like diamonds, so bright the glow of it casts over Ryan’s face. Shane resists the urge to capture the moment in a photograph. 

“Do you want to?” Shane asks, but Ryan shakes his head. Ryan steps a little closer, curling his arm around Shane’s waist; Shane settles his arm around Ryan’s shoulder, then, kissing the top of his head.

They stand on the sidelines, and drink their hot chocolate, and when they finish, Shane calls an uber, cause it’s really cold and Ryan starts to complain about the fate of his toes again. 

:::

At home, Ryan shakes snowflakes from his hair, stomping his boots on the porch so he doesn’t track in snow. Shane does the same, hanging coats on the hooks, kicking off their shoes, shedding unnecessary layers. And then Ryan’s pressed against him, a cold hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down. 

Ryan kisses Shane slowly, unhurried, and Shane just pulls him closer, leaning up against the back of the front door. Ryan laughs against his mouth, and he tastes like chocolate, like years to come, like infinite amounts of time. Like _forever_.

“I know we don’t, like, get mushy about shit, cause that’s not our thing, but,” Ryan says, pulling back, looking at him with the softest eyes Shane’s ever seen. “But, it was kind of romantic, you wanting to be out and stuff. Like, I know we only said families, but I’m really glad I can just—love you wherever. It’s stupid to hide it. Don’t wanna hide you.”

Shane’s heart flips and flounders and flutters in his chest, and there’s a tension in his throat and he doesn’t know what to say to Ryan, but god, he’s in love with him. With his eyes and his mind and the brilliant way he can just say what he’s thinking. 

“Good,” Shane murmurs, “don’t want to hide you either.” 

:::

After dinner, they sit on the couch, turning their phones back on. They buzz and buzz and buzz, and Shane watches the percentage of his battery drop incredibly quickly. 

They tackle extended family and friends. TJ, Devon, Mark, Katie, and the rest of the crew. Andrew, Steven, Adam, Annie, Rie. The Try Guys. Kelsey, Quinta, Jen, Daysha, Maycie, Curly, and Maya. 

There’s a range of sentiments from, “Congratulations!” to “I fucking knew it,” to “When’s the wedding?” 

They laugh, and Ryan pretends like he’s not crying, and Shane pretends like he doesn't want to cry, and then they go through comments from their fans. On Instagram and Twitter. Ryan retweets someone’s post that reads, “Ryan done caught himself a Bigfoot.” 

They stay up for hours, liking and retweeting, deciding against crafting sentimental posts about how they’re together now. Because it isn’t new, but it feels a little like it is, sharing themselves with the world like this. And not every word they read is supportive, but even that’s okay, too. 

Shane glances at the time; it’s just after one, they’ve been deserted by Shane’s relatives. It’s just Ryan and Shane left on the couch, huddled underneath a blanket. 

“Ugh, I can’t—I feel like my eyes are going to fall out of my head,” Ryan says, locking the screen to his phone. “Can we go to bed now? Kinda feel like if maybe you’re quiet enough, I’ll touch your—”

“Jesus, Ry,” Shane mutters, but he’s off the couch, leaving Ryan laughing behind him. 

:::

A little sweaty, breathing a little hard and giggling softly, Ryan’s arms slip warm around Shane’s waist, chest pressed up against Shane’s shoulder blades. Shane’s the little spoon, without fuss, because Ryan and those arms of his. 

“This is going to be a really good, Christmas, Big Guy,” Ryan whispers against the nape of his neck. 

Shane hums. “They’re all going to be good Christmases. I got you.” 

“Jesus,” Ryan wheezes, nuzzling his face into Shane’s shoulder. “I’m stupid fucking in love with you.” 

“Sounds terminal,” Shane mumbles, clasping their fingers together.

Ryan laughs. “I really hope so.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! [tumblr](https://businessbabybergara.tumblr.com/). love, love, love.
> 
> edit: the loveliest noe made [art](https://kingspapercrown.tumblr.com/post/189945365811/loveofmylife-for-businessbabybergara-because/)! please check it out and give it a reblog <3


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